


Wingless Angel

by Awyr



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Non-human OC - Freeform, locked memories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-07 20:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17967356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awyr/pseuds/Awyr
Summary: Even if I've lost my wings, I'll still find you.If I can't fly, I'll run.If I can't run, then I'll walk.And if I can't walk, I'll crawl.I'll do anything just so you can hold my hand, a hand that will never let you go.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t finished writing this piece of work but I will not abandon it. I have spent about a month and a half changing everything so many times before I was satisfied with what I’ve started with. This is the first time I’ve written in this style, I went from third person past to present but now I’m overjoyed with writing in first person present!  
> Enjoy 💕

Hurts. These chains hurt. I never knew sleeping for so long would be painful. I don't like pain in any form. Pain is scary, especially when it's dark.

I don't know where I am and I never will, all I know is that I've been asleep. I don't know for how long and I don't want to know, I don't want to think about it. The darkness around me, it's so lifeless, nothing but me bound to the earth with chains is here- left to ponder for what they call eternity.

Time never ends. That's what they told me. I don't want to know the truth, that time may be everlasting, and be time's companion.

I miss my wings, they're what I want, the familiar feathers that caressed me so gently when I curled up at times I was afraid- I miss them dearly. My beautiful black feathered wings, drenched in sins, torn from my spine, I can always see the scars on my back in my mind so vividly.

Such big, long coarse scars, the proof of my naïvety and foolishness in the past- and the blood that poured out when they were ripped apart from me. My feathers, plucked out one by one, so slowly and gently, fell so silently. They pulled my two limbs so quick and fiercely, snapping the joints beforehand- I can hear my heaven shattering scream, a scream I can't help believe I produced, it still haunts me.

The disgusting blood in my body pounds so distinctly against the chains wrapped around my body.

The chilly air is so sorrowful... so deathly yet so comforting and full of hope- hope and a destination that I yearn for.

I wonder why I still believe in hope, such a refutable existence, but I still hope nevertheless. Because hope will only comes to those who believe in it. It's the only words that keep me going, keep me alive, keep me a step away from the abyss of despair, agony and loneliness.

I believe in hope, because my soulmate is hope.

My hope and will always be.

Even if I have to run, or walk if I can't run, crawl if I can't walk, I will find them no matter what.

Hold their hands forever, or until the end of time if time ever has a end.


	2. Chapter 1: Warm

I fear sleeping, or what happens when I sleep. What happens continues on as though I'm resuming a game, one where I'm the main character, in first person, and I'm stuck in the introduction- there is no skip or quit option. Waking up is pause and sleep is play.

And I saw them- their beautiful blue eyes staring at me so deviously, with indifference as ice crawls out of their eyes- forcing me to halt amidst the cackling wind. Their elegant and enchanting cotton feathers seem so fluffy yet dangerous, as if they could pull out and stab every cell in my body, as they flap gracefully under the cerulean sky.

And they did.

It was meteor shower, pinning me to the ground as they pierced every fibre of my being, my voice was restricted and I couldn't scream, everything I was feeling was known to me alone.

A volcano of excruciation had erupted. Shimmering ruby blood, like smouldering lava, gushed out of my cracks, cracks that would take eternity to heal.

I stare out at the thin window fixing my tired eyes on the arctic white moon as I lean on my side. The piercing light drives me awake but the movement of the train pulls the half-buried memories up, turning the rippling surface into waves- maybe tsunamis- and I focus on my reflection as I hear the blood in my head pound like a hammer striking an anvil, fierce yet steady. My body feels heavy as though gravity dislikes me and my clothes feel like weights. It's hard to keep my eyes open as I stare at myself, more specifically my face.

I have unique purple eyes, apparently they're a genetic mutation which, in my family, only I have. They look like glass, so transparent and fragile, they could shatter with one touch. If only I could make it blurry, more resilient, and guard my mind from those discerning gazes.

I blink my heavy eyelids. My eyes are sunken and the dark circles and baggy eyelids on my pale skin are distinct. I look as though I'm in my late twenties. I'm only in my mid twenties, I turned twenty-five a few days ago. My red lips aren't dry or cracked, and my hair, dark chocolate brown, gets complimented a lot for a reason I can never understand. They say its nice and soft but I find it unbearable. I can never like having short hair, my bottom line is a long bob cut which is easy to tie up, like right now.

I skim over my face, my straight nose holding the glasses I need, not my eyes, and my rosy cheeks. I still don't know if they redden if I'm embarrassed or how red they go, I've never been told.

I let my eyes wander back into the train, glancing at my shoes which have my feet tucked snug in my white cotton socks that are peeking out. I don't like polyester, eighty-percent cotton and twenty-percent polyester is okay, I prefer one-hundred-percent if it's available- they're really thick and cosy, great when I'm cold, which most of the time, I am, and I curl my toes.

I cover my mouth as I yawn, at the same time I check the time on my wrist watch, the leather band securely wrapped around my wrist as I tilt the accessory, making out from what I can see with my blurred vision.

It's seven-forty-seven. I stare at the small hand for a few seconds as it ticks and sigh as the automated announcement rings in my ears, resting my wrist on my lap.

'The next station is Grindleford.'

Again, just a few more stops to go and I can get drink some coffee to keep myself awake.

I focus on listening to the old couple's conversation from across me, even though this is rude, I might be able to stay awake for longer. Hopefully I do.

'D'you think he's ever going to call me Grandad?'

'Give him time.'

I scrunch my nose as I lean on the back of my seat, I think feel better- I don't know honestly- and stretch my neck. This time I let their words flow into my ears and stuff my hands in my coat pockets. It's nice to have my fingers curl inside and feel its warmth to distract me from my headache.

'Three year's we've been married.'

I wince from the hammering blood, and turn to my side, my knees against the side of the train, below the window. I can feel the cold glass press against the side of my face as well as my pulse when my fingertips press against the inside of my pocket. It's weird, strange, mysterious, unfathomable.

'And you've never been happier.' I see her grin through the reflection in the window and peck his cheek, properly in love.

I feel envious for some reason. I always do when couples get affectionate or throw some love for singles like me to either yearn for or curse at. But they seem so close, old people seem to have great relationships.

Uncle Sam has a great relationship with Auntie Aria. They're so close to each other it's honestly adorable to watch, especially when Auntie Aria's in a grumpy mood. Uncle Sam, at these times, is more like a wifey husband. 

I smile at the thoughts of the two, my eyes involuntarily close for a moment- or a few moments- catching a glimpse of the devils' piercing eyes and the striking sky behind them.

My body felt so light in that moment, brimming with agony as I feel myself beginning to fall.

I stare at myself again, inhale a deep breath just as the train halts, throwing me forward, my head thumps the seat in front of me.

I cradle my head in agony, the hammer now a mallet, and bite my lip, freezing once I see the darkness of the train.

My breath hitches, hands pause, and I stare down the silent train, trembling as dread drowns me, my quivering hands moving to clutch the seat for support.

I don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to know what happens after that, I'm scared of knowing- and experiencing it, I don't want to.

I glance at the couple across me who are still recovering and watch the darkness outside the window again, my fingers turn white as I grip firmer- I don't want to let go.

I can feel my legs shake from the familiarity of the darkness... and nearness of sleep. It's so dark outside, so much black, so much death, so much sin- I hear a beep, something else followed by another another beep- I slowly look at the couple as their voice pierce my ears.

'You alright love?' The old man asks his wife, my sight blurs again as I stare at them.

I shudder seeing images of my grandparents in my head, Uncle Sam and Auntie Aria always reminded me of them- their big smiles as they laughed so beautifully, I've forgotten how they sound, they're just small unforgettable memories I reminisce.

'Think so. Yeah. What just happened?'

I freeze. I hear nothing, see nothing, feel nothing and know nothing and everything fades black- a colour I know so well but fear so much.

A shrill scream penetrates my ears- I didn't know my voice could be so high-pitched- the bones in my wings are broken and bent at impossible angles, the shaft of the white feathers impaled in me scratch my bones as I fall, blind and like a puppet with damaged strings piercing through the wintry air toward the emerald green ocean.

Once colourless blood, now filthy crimson red, floods my mouth and nostrils, dripping down my face and I feel my body curl and my wings twitch, the white feathers sink deeper, into my skeleton- I feel them cracking too, broken like my wings.

I can't hear, see or flap my wings anymore. I can only fall; faster and deeper though the air, plunge into the great body of water, sinking deeper.

I feel myself hacking and wheezing, everything is still dark and the water crushes me and my will to live. I feel all these emotions, it's beyond terrifying.

I was always told water was my friend, that the water if the water really liked you it would hug you to sleep, but I know it's not the truth.

I feel weak and feel somethings scrape against me, I think the feathers were pulled out.

Why can't I feel the pain? Everything feels so faint, so cold and close in this darkness. I'm scared, so scared, I'm always scared.

A whimper leaves my lips as I crack my eyes open, my breathing laboured as I bring my knees to my chest to hug myself, shivering as I find myself on the floor against the back of the train remembering what I just experienced.

Is it tears I feel streaking down my face? They're so warm, unlike the ocean and nippy winds, their glacier blue eyes- I exhale a shaky breath- what if they somehow bring me out of the ocean, still alive? What if they'll torture me instead?

I feel something warm touch my face- a hand?- and lift my heads slightly pausing as I stare at the hand, their thumb wiping my tears away.

It feels so warm, their voice as they speak, but I don't know what they're saying. I think I heard my name, Anariel, but I don't know- I can't describe it- it feels like home, like when I've with grandpa and grandma, like Uncle Sam and Uncle Aria when they let me hug them after a dream, soothing me and telling me everything is all right.

I don't want them to stop.

I find myself falling asleep again. But this time, I don't think there's gonna be a bad dream.


End file.
